


The Carrot and Stick

by corvidkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s), Past Zack Fair/Cloud Strife, Puppet Cloud Strife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 16:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidkohai/pseuds/corvidkohai
Summary: Sephiroth uses Zack's memory and the relationship he used to have with Cloud to win Cloud over.





	The Carrot and Stick

Everything was fuzzy. It was getting harder and harder to keep anything at all straight in his head. The last thing that was really, truly clear was watching his friends take on the Ultima WEAPON and landing far at the back of the group after rebounding off the WEAPON itself. He’d taken a second to breathe and circle his wrists, just to loosen the cramping muscles, but apparently that had been one second too long. He remembered a bright burst of pain in his temple and everything going dark.

Everything after that was just flashes or had a strange, dreamlike quality to it. He caught bits and pieces of terrain, of mountains, and plains, and so much snow. He caught villages ablaze and dead bodies, but the faces always blurred, and he was never sure who the victims were. There were scenes of him holding his own sword in various readied and unguarded positions, sometimes with blood on the blade, sometimes without. The image of his own face reflected back at him in a mirror, in a lake, but his eyes weren’t blue but instead acidic green with slits like a cat. There was the rushing sound of waves, the high keen of wind through mountain masses, the roar of flames, pained screaming and pleas for help. It all painted a strange picture. He didn’t know where he was, or what happened, who was doing what and what had been done to whom.

But there was one common thread, a glue holding everything together.

Sephiroth.

At least half the flashes were related to him, and most of those dreamy sequences featured the man he once held as an idol, before he’d burned down his home. His eyes, his hair, his face in dozens of only slightly different expressions. His back standing tall in front of him, his sword gleaming. His smell (how did he even know what that was?). His voice, in a thousand different tones, from sweet to purring to possessive to dark. His touch (what?), both against his skin and inside him ( _what?_ ). Long moments of heat and movement and pleasure that he was always sure he was remembering wrong, because this was _Sephiroth_ and they were _enemies_ but he was sure, so sure those scenes came with the sound of his own voice moaning and begging for more and whispering Sephiroth’s name like a prayer.

But there was one other commonality. It was Zack. It was his words, things that had been said to him so many times they were etched into his bones. The old nicknames ‘Spike’ and ‘Cloudy.’ His sailor’s mouth that got him in trouble more than once when they had been at Shinra, but never failed to make Cloud laugh. The smell of his cigarettes—menthol, that used to cling to his clothes and his skin. The way he would ruffle Cloud’s hair hard enough that his whole head moved, the arm slung around his shoulder, the occasional headlock. The words he used to whisper when they were in bed together, when they were curled up asleep, when they were struggling through the labs, when they made their escape, when he left him on that cliff-side to go die: “Love ya, Spike.”

But something was off about it. The inflection in the words was always wrong, the tone just slightly off, the gestures never quite rough enough for the playful way Zack handled him. It was like someone else jumped into his memories wearing Zack’s skin, playing the part but not quite nailing it. But everything was so blurred, so out of focus, that he couldn’t tell if it was real at all anymore. He might just be remembering Zack and his memory wasn’t doing him justice. Or maybe he was there, maybe he had survived the cliff somehow. He always tried to keep that particular thought away, just in case he was wrong.

And something was wrong.

Something was _very_ wrong.

Only he was only rarely aware enough to realize that, and he always forgot it again soon after.

When he came to, it was like breaking from the surface of ice water after drowning. He gasped as he came to his senses, a strange fog lifting. His eyes took a long time to focus, his brain taking even longer to come back online and begin processing what was happening.

His body was moving of its own accord. He was on his hands and knees, pressing back against a thrust that met him halfway. He could feel the length inside him, the way they were moving together in perfect synch, him and this mystery man, with an ease that spoke of long familiarity. It was second nature, to fall into rhythm, to follow the hands on his hips and let them guide him into place. It would be easier to continue like that, but as he was coming to his senses, he forced himself to come to a halt.

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know when he was. He didn’t know who he was with, or why he felt so safe, or why he trusted this person so much. He didn’t know why every instinct screamed that this was right and to fall in line, to do what was expected, to do absolutely anything to please the man behind him.

The whole situation was alarming, suddenly coming to just to find himself fucking some stranger. But what was more alarming was the sheer desperation to please, the way it felt like a need.

He felt a hand run up his back and heard the man say, “Spike?”

Cloud’s world split in two. In one, he was back in Shinra Tower, in Zack’s apartment bedroom, with sunlight streaming in through the blinds, a warm, bare hand on his back soothing away the last of his nerves, his voice checking in out of concern. Then he was back here, in a strange bedroom in the dark, with a gloved hand against his back, and a familiar voice he couldn’t place that had the oddest lilt to it. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was snide.

Cloud looked over his shoulder. The first thing he saw was Zack, his head tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised but the slightest curl to his lips. Then the vision cleared and it was Sephiroth, _Sephiroth_ , with a single eyebrow up and a smug smirk on his lips.

And it all fell back into place, everything flooding back with a rush. How Sephiroth had knocked him out during the battle with Ultima and taken him. How he’d held him under like a man he wanted to drown with the force of his mind, submerging Cloud in Jenova’s power until he became compliant. Until he followed of his own accord. Until he killed innocents and razed towns beside the man he had called his enemy. Until he fell into bed with that man, eager and desperate and begging to be allowed to do anything Sephiroth wanted.

He had been able to fight to the surface for flashes, to catch glimpses of reality, but most of the time, he was held so firmly under Sephiroth’s sway that it was impossible to resist. How could he fight back, when he wasn’t even aware of what was happening? He just kept blacking out, never coming to for long enough to figure out what was going on. If he _was_ cognizant for more than an instant, the fog remained settled around him so heavily that it had felt like a dream, like something he didn’t have to fight. All those times in bed, just another one of his teenage dreams of his idol.

It was clear, now, that Zack wasn’t back. That Zack hadn’t survived the cliff after all. Maybe that was the secret to how Sephiroth kept him so compliant, how it was so, so easy to keep him blind. He soothed him with the memories of the only person who had ever really loved him. Every time he started to fight back, started to question or resist or pull away, all he had to do was call him ‘Spike,’ light up a menthol, tousle his hair, and Cloud let his guard down without thought, trusting blindly in the one person he had felt safe with. With everything else so blurred, with it so hard to tell fact from fiction, the deception had taken so well.

But he was awake, now, and even with his double vision, he knew who he was with.

The issue, was that he’d been in that fog so long, had come to connect Zack and Sephiroth so well subconsciously, that things were bleeding over. Things that should have been reserved for Zack were carrying over to Sephiroth. That safety, that trust. That _love_. Part of him wanted nothing more than to start moving again, or to reach out and touch gently, to try for a kiss. The other part knew that this was nothing more than an extreme version of word association, that he was supposed to hate Sephiroth, that he ought to kick him off and try to fight him, nakedness be damned. But while he knew that logically, he couldn’t quite fight his heart.

So when Sephiroth reached out and ruffled his hair, Cloud found himself collapsing to his elbows. Sephiroth laughed behind him, and the sound was triumphant, but all Cloud could hear was Zack’s bright laughter ringing in his ears. He hardly felt what was happening when Sephiroth pulled out and flipped him over so he was on his back. He _did_ feel when he pressed back inside, and gasped at the sensation.

Sephiroth’s hand came up to cup his cheek as he slowly began to move again. Only Cloud was so dizzy now, trying so hard to disentangle the memory of Zack from the Sephiroth in front of him and failing miserably.

“You’re so _easy_ , Cloud, did you know that?” Sephiroth gloated, his thumb tracing Cloud’s cheekbone. “He’s all I need to keep you at my side. The second you start to drift away, all I need is one of his gestures, his words, his cigarettes, and you come barreling back toward me. You’re so _desperate_ for any scrap of him. And I’m the only one who can give him to you, now. I knew him as well as you did. I know every one of his tics and quirks, all his habits, good and bad, how he talked. You hardly remember Shinra, but the three of us were together often—Zack needed the people he loved most to know each other. I know how he touched you, the way he talked to you, all the little lines he used. You need him, and so you need me.”

Cloud stared up at Sephiroth with his breath caught in his throat. Because, damn it all, he was _right_. A part of him had died on the cliff-side with Zack. Part of him would never recover without him. And any piece of him Sephiroth could give him was a balm on a burn that just would not heal. He had everything he ever loved torn from him and was thrown into a shadow war with Shinra that turned into a shadow war with Sephiroth and it was too much. If he’d had Zack with him, he could have handled it. But he felt the loss like a hole in his chest and he would do anything, anything to fill it.

Even if that meant turning to Sephiroth.

He didn’t know what was on his face, but it seemed to satisfy Sephiroth immensely.

He reached down and tweaked his nose, something Zack did whenever he was being a brat or sulking, or when they were in bed and he gave him too much attitude, or if he got distracted. Cloud gave a great, shuddering gasp. Sephiroth using the gesture, to call him back to attention, the way Zack would, both helped and hurt in measures.

Cloud reached up and wrapped his arms around Sephiroth to hold him close, locked his legs around his hips to pull him in deeper.

He wasn’t Zack. No, he knew that now. He wasn’t seeing double anymore, just Sephiroth, but that was enough, if he could give him bits of Zack. He found that, in that moment, he would do absolutely anything for a scrap of the man he loved to hold onto.

Sephiroth began moving faster, harder. It wasn’t anything at all like how Zack had been. He’d been a lot of things, from sweet, to passionate, to playful, but rough had never been one of them, and Sephiroth _was_ being rough. The hand around his hip was sure to bruise, as was the hand he had pulled from Cloud’s face to his thigh, spreading his legs wider, pressing a dark mark into his inner thigh with his thumb.

It wasn’t anything like Zack, but Cloud found himself doing his best to meet each thrust anyway.

“Please,” he begged, his hand finding its way into Sephiroth’s hair. The way they moved was nothing like what he had with Zack, no, but his body was on autopilot, falling into old gestures he had with Zack. He’d tangled his fingers in Zack’s hair so many times, cupped the back of his head to pull him down, held him close. His own touches were as gentle as Sephiroth’s were harsh.

“Cloudy?”

Cloud’s head fell back with a moan at the old nickname. It was everything. It was perfect. It was exactly what he needed.

Sephiroth’s hand circled him, began stroking him hard and fast. The way he went about it was wrong, and it was with his left hand, whereas Zack always used his right. It wasn’t the way Zack did things, wasn’t how he would have ever wanted to do things, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was what Sephiroth wanted, and what Cloud needed, and this would do the job.

After all, this wasn’t Cloud and Zack.

This was Cloud, Sephiroth, and a dead man’s ghost.

Zack hung around the proceedings like a pall, some inescapable shroud coloring everything that happened. His memory was written into every gestures and movement, every puff of breath and every gasp. He couldn’t have been removed from things even if they wanted to. But Cloud needed Zack like he needed air, and Sephiroth needed Zack if he wanted to keep Cloud. He was an unknowing third participant, a strange unseeing voyeur that lurked at the bedside, utterly unavoidable.

Sephiroth dipped his head and whispered in Cloud’s ear, “Love ya, Spike.”

A thousand memories passed through Cloud’s head. Dates around Midgar, heated nights in Zack’s apartment, lazy mornings in bed, whispers by ears in the SOLDIER hallway, sobbed promises in the labs, desperate reminders on the run. Those three words, on an endless loop, the be-all-end-all of him, of them both.

He hadn’t even been all that close before those words, but Cloud found himself coming, hard as he could ever remember, with a strangled sound that might have been a moan, or might have been a sob.

He could hear Sephiroth laugh in his ear, the sound cruel. If he hadn’t before, he was certainly now aware of the exact power he had over Cloud.

Sephiroth continued fucking him, if anything going harder than he had before.

He stopped pretending entirely. There were no more reminders of Zack, no words or gestures, no way for him to fool himself that this wasn’t Sephiroth he was fucking. Sephiroth, who disgraced Zack’s memory by using it to lord over Cloud. Cloud, who had been so desperate for it that he’d begged.

Cloud pulled his hands away from Sephiroth to press them to his own face, filled with shame and guilt.

This whole thing was an insult to Zack’s memory. The last thing Zack had told him to do when he knew Sephiroth was alive was tell him to end him. To kill the man he was not only in bed with, but had been actively encouraging. This isn’t what the man would have wanted.

But Cloud knew he wouldn’t do anything different, if he was offered the same situation over again. He needed Zack too badly. It was an insult, and a disgrace, but couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It wasn’t what Zack wanted, but it was what Cloud needed to keep going. Zack was probably rolling over in his grave right now, but Cloud was the one who had to go on living.

He would have been ashamed of himself regardless, but what really made it burrow so deep under his skin was the way he wasn’t sorry. The way he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Sephiroth pulled his hands from his face and pinned them above his head.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “I want you to see what you’re doing. The way you’re spitting on his memory by letting me touch you this way.”

Cloud flinched, and felt sick, but there was nothing to be done about it. Sephiroth was right. He was exactly right.

“You’d do anything for him,” Sephiroth continued, “but you can’t give his memory the respect it deserves, because you need him too much. Which means you need _me_.”

Cloud sounded horrified as he choked out, “Yes.”

“I’m the only one left who can give you what you need. And I will. I’ll remind you of him in every way possible so you can’t forget him even if you try. _I_ will be the one to remind you, until you can hardly keep us separate anymore. Until you love me, because of how much you love him.”

“I don’t want to,” Cloud whispered, only sounding afraid because he knew, in his gut, that Sephiroth was right.

Sephiroth smiled slowly, his lips curling upwards in what might have been fondness, might have been smugness.

“I know,” he crooned, leaning down to brush his lips against Cloud’s. “But you can’t help yourself.”

Cloud turned his face to the side and pinched his eyes shut, fighting back tears. He didn’t want to do this to Zack’s memory. He didn’t want to be this way. But he couldn’t, _couldn’t_ be without him. If that meant he got so lost in it by the end that he ended up loving Sephiroth instead, there was nothing to be done about it. He was too selfish to stop himself, consequences be damned.

It was at the look of sheer misery on Cloud’s face that Sephiroth came, buried deep inside him. He let out a long, slow breath before pulling out. He leaned down one more time, whispering in Clouds’ upturned ear as he felt the cum start to slowly trickle out.

“I’m going to use him to make you mine, and not only are you going to let me do it, but you’re going to beg for it.”

And Cloud finally gave in, letting out one great, broken sob.

Because he was right, and Cloud knew it.

He just also knew there was no way to stop it.


End file.
